


His Note

by MichaelTheMicrophone



Series: 5SOS Sickfics [9]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 08:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11733720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichaelTheMicrophone/pseuds/MichaelTheMicrophone
Summary: Calum breaks his arm and things don't end well.





	His Note

**Author's Note:**

> !WARNING!
> 
> THIS IS EXTREMELY DARK! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED EASILY, IF YOU ARE DEPRESSED OR HAVE SUICIDAL THOUGHTS!

The lads of 5 Seconds of Summer were on a very unexpected six week break. They'd postponed multiple concerts in America, 27 out of the planned 30, moving them into the two month break they would have had after America. All because of Calum. Or rather, Calum's arm. He'd managed to break his right arm and wrist whilst the lads were running around before their second show in America.

Calum had tripped on one of the many guitar cases and fallen towards the wall on which it was leaning. He smashed his arm against said wall, breaking his wrist. He then cradled his arm to his chest as he tripped over yet another guitar case, sending him falling to the floor. He landed on his already injured arm, breaking his arm this time. The lads had of course helped him up and called an ambulance, supporting him and calming him down the entire time.

Calum went in the ambulance and the lads played the concert with only the three of them. Ashton sung quite a lot of Calum's parts, as they both had a similar vocal range. The rest of them were taken by Luke, one or two versus by Michael. The lads headed to the hospital right after the concert, before the fans had even began to leave the building. When they got there, Calum was sitting up with his phone in his hand and a yellow cast adorning his right arm.

"Hey Cal!" Michael announced his presence rather loudly, running over and hugging his friend, almost knocking the phone out of his hand.

"Hey Mikey." Calum laughed, wrapping his arms around Michael after a slight moment of hesitation. He noticed his two blonde bandmates standing behind, waiting awkwardly. "Hey guys, ummm help?"

"Sure thing, Cal-Pal." Ashton laughed, walking over and pulling Calum out of Michael's death grip. Calum rolled his eyes at the nickname. He was still annoyed at that yellow and green spandex suit.

"So, how you doing?" Luke asked as Calum set his phone down on the bed, shutting it off.

"Decently, my arm still hurts but I should be able to leave tonight." Calum replied. Just as he said that, the doctor that had been looking after him came in looking at his clipboard, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the other three men in the room with Calum.

"Hello. I'm Doctor Farner, I've been treating Mr Calum." The doctor introduced himself to the lads. "I've come to tell you that Calum is free to go now and that he should be getting his cast replaced every week for the 8 weeks that he will have it. He has told me that you are travelling at the moment, so I'll give you this piece of paper that explains what the hospitals you visit will need to do, so you can go to the nearest one to wherever you will be staying"

"Thank you very much, Doctor." Luke nodded, taking the sheet from the doctor. "We will take good care of him."

"Of course. Goodbye boys, goodbye Mr Calum." Doctor Farner left the room and the lads followed 5 minutes later, heading back to the tour bus. Once they got back, Calum, Michael and Luke went to bed whilst Ashton stayed up to figure out what was going to happen, with Calum's broken arm and how they were going to play concerts. The end result was a break for the entirety of the 8 weeks that Calum would have a cast on his arm.

They packed up the next day, taking everything they would need and catching a plane to Los Angeles, where their band house was. They arrived at the house mid afternoon so they all decided to relax, kicking back and watching some movies. They ordered pizza for dinner and continued having a night off. All four of them went to bed early, feeling jetlagged despite the short trip.

Calum found it difficult to get comfortable in his bed, it was too big to just hang his arm off the edge and not fall off. At least, that was his logic. He got to sleep after a good hour of tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. He woke up soon after, his arm bothering him once again. He knew he most likely wouldn't get back to sleep any time soon, so he decided to have a play on his phone, checking on what had happened that day.

01:23 was the time when Calum closed youtube, which he had been watching for the last half hour, and opened the beloved app twitter. He typed in his name and instantly news accounts came up, giving their biased opinion on what had happened the previous evening. A particularly bad one from America had the headline

5 SECONDS OF SUMMER BASSIST CLAIMS BROKEN ARM. OR IS HE JUST BREAKING UNDER PRESSURE?

Reading through the article, Calum teared up at all the references of things he had done that were embarrassing, strange, not appropriate, things he had done while he was drunk, even things from years ago, things that were not related to the subject at all. It was clear that whoever wrote the article did not like 5SOS in the slightest. Reading through the comments beneath the article, Calum expected at least some support, but from the 20 odd comments, there were only two that supported Calum, both from anonymous users.

Calum knew that people didn't like him, he wasn't anything like the other three lads. He was weak, he could barely play guitar, let alone bass, he was always behind the other three. They all had unique things about them that made fans love them, Luke could sing and was really compassionate and nice to fans. Michael had the best sense of humour and ever-changing coloured hair. Ashton was a man and a teenage girl all in one and it made fans swoon, even Calum sometimes. In fact, all of them made him swoon on occasion.

But he bet that he never made any of them swoon. He was too weird. Too tan. His hair was a normal, boring black. His eyes a bland brown. He barely had any muscle, to be fair, neither did Michael, but he looked good like that. He would look strange with muscles. But Calum, Calum looked like a blob of brown.

Calum was broken from his thoughts by a notification. A notification of a message from Luke:

Long Legs: Why are you still up?

Not Asian: None of your business.

Long Legs: Yes it is Calum. You are up and looking at depressing news articles about yourself. Stop it.

Not Asian: How the fuck did you know?

Long Legs: You liked the only good comments on it.

Not Asian: Oh, well. I couldn't sleep and it was on twitter. I couldn't just go past it.

Long Legs: You could have, but now you are just making yourself feel worse about yourself than you did before.

Not Asian: I'm fine, Luke.

Long Legs: Go to sleep Calum.

Not Asian: You are not my mother. Or my father.

Long Legs: No, but I am your friend and I worry about you.

Not Asian: Fiiiine.

Long Legs: Thank you, if I see any other notifications of you being on things then I am coming in your room and confiscating your phone.

Not Asian: You finally learnt how to spell that word.

Long Legs: No, autocorrect did. Goodnight Calum.

Not Asian: Goodnight Lukey.

Calum sighed and put his phone down. He knew Luke didn't really care. It was all just an act. There was no way that anyone could love someone like Calum. No way at all, never ever. Calum managed to fall asleep for the second time that evening feeling hopeless.

Calum woke the next morning not feeling any better. He got changed, but not without glancing at his old, white, hard to spot scars from a couple of years ago. He had been stopped by his sister, who saw them when he came home on a break and he didn't want to go swimming, despite it being an extremely hot day. She had spotted them as she tried to drag him off the bed. She had been in tears and he had felt so guilty that he had stopped and she helped him almost get back to normal, but it seems that now he had relapsed.

Calum shook his head in an attempt to get the tempting feeling of wanting to drag a blade across his skin, to relieve himself of the pain he is feeling, to punish himself for ever hurting another person, for living, to get the feeling to leave him alone. He knows that if he asked any member of his family, any of his friends, his bandmates, his fans, they would all say that he shouldn't feel that way, but that doesn't stop it.

Calum took his hand off of the door handle out of his room and turned towards his wardrobe, he hoped it was still there. He walked towards it, opening the wooden doors and looking at the top shelf. He moved various old shirts and pairs of boxers out of the way in his search, finally spotting the old Nike shoebox. He grabbed it out, placing it on the bed before putting all of his clothes back on the high shelf.

He opened the box, finding his old blades and bandages and other items he used to use to harm himself as they used to be, just a little worn. He looked through the box, so many memories, so many thoughts, bad ones as well as good, came from the items inside this box. He reached in, pulling out the blade he always used to use. A simple aluminium razor blade, but to Calum it was so much more than that.

Before Calum could go any further, there was a knock at the door. Calum rushed, putting his stuff back into the box and putting it under his bed. He flopped down on his bed, picking his phone up and pretending to scroll through some social media.

"What you want?" Calum shouted at the door, not looking up from his phone.

"Calum? You alright?" He heard Luke's voice call. Looking up, he saw Luke standing in his doorway.

"Yeah, why?" Calum questioned.

"I just heard some shuffling... oh nevermind, breakfast is ready, courtesy of Michael."

"You mean Michael actually got out of bed and cooked breakfast?"

"Nah, Michael sat up in bed and texted Ashton to get us McDonald's while he was out on his morning run."

"True dat."

"Anyways, come downstairs before Michael eats your serve." Luke called, walking down the hall.

"Alright, I'm coming." Calum called back, rolling off of his bed and leaving the room, despite the itching feeling to go back to the box.

They spent the whole day in the house, but for some reason, Calum could not get any time alone. He tried to duck out of the room, to go back to his box, but each time one of the lads caught him. He even ended up sleeping on the couch as they watched Inside Out. It was just about the same for the rest of the first month, the only time he had alone being when he went to the toilet or to shower. He managed to move his box into the bathroom, but he never used the things within as it would take too long and the lads always called to him when he was in the toilet for more than five minutes.

Calum had assumed that the lads were just being careful because of his arm. He accepted the fact that they cared for him and he was quite grateful for it, despite it being annoying sometimes. But that wasn't the main reason. Luke was the one that had brought it up, Calum acting weird.

"What do you mean? He looks fine to me." Ashton had replied when Luke had told them after breakfast the first day.

"Yeah, other than his arm." Michael agreed.

"He's thinking about cutting again." Luke mumbled. Instantly both Michael and Ashton's faces were a mix of shocked and concerned.

"How.. how do you know?" Ashton asked.

"He's still got the box, the one with all of his stuff from back then. He pulled it out of his closet earlier. He'd accidently left his door open slightly and I saw him looking at his old blades. I had knocked on the door and he rushed to pack away. He looked slightly shaken and yeah, he's not alright." Luke finished his mini speech and all three of them sat in silence, processing the information.

"How are we going to stop him without him, y'know, like, feeling threatened?" Michael asked.

"How about we just try and keep him in the same room as us? Like, don't mention anything and if he asks, it's just incase he injured himself because his arm and all that." Luke proposed.

"Sure, I mean, I don't have anything better." Michael responded.

"Yeah, that's good." Ashton agreed.

"Alright, let's just hope it works."

Throughout the first month, Calum constantly felt like he needed to take a blade to his wrist, to relieve some of the pain he felt. But with the lads constantly around him, he only managed to get one session in, and that was in the shower. It just didn't work. So, after the first month, Calum started researching. He wanted to know how he could do it. How he could relieve his pain.

Eventually, after about 2 weeks of researching, the only real way that Calum could come up with was, of course, suicide. It wasn't what he wanted initially, but it seemed that now all he wanted was to leave the pain behind him, and dying was a sure-fire way to do that. He then researched the easiest ways to do that. Guns were at the top of the list, though Calum wasn't sure how he'd get ahold of one.

Then there was the cliche pills and vodka, he had old antidepressants in his box and there was plenty of alcohol in the fridge. There was always the option of jumping off the top of the house, but that wasn't very high, so it probably wouldn't kill him. Calum decided on the second option. He just didn't know when. And how he was going to get away from the lads for long enough to be able to carry out his plan.

He just needed figure it out. He decided, after a day of debating it, that he should do it when everyone is asleep, that way he wouldn't have the lads bugging him constantly. The last thing was, which night? He needed to pick a night where the lads wouldn't feel guilty. A night that will mean that they have enough time to get over it before they get back to touring. He knows it will probably hit them hard, but it's not going to be the end of the world. They will get over it.

It was a week before they were due to return to tour when he saw the tweet. The tweet that made him lose it. The tweet which made him let go of any hope he had left. Sure, he'd seen the same tweet many times, but now it actually made an impact on him. He was already so far down in his hole that this tweet made him hit rock bottom.

Go kill yourself @Calum5SOS

He spent the evening on his phone. The lads thought he was playing a game, with how much he was typing, but he was writing a note. His note. The whole time he was writing he was trying to mask how close he was to breaking down in tears. He knew he shouldn't feel this emotional. He deserved this. It was what he wanted, what he needed. He let out a whimper, covering his mouth straight after.

"You alright?" Michael asked. Calum looked up to see all three of his bandmates looking at him, obviously confused.

"Yeah, just lost on a level I've been trying to beat for so long and I was so close." Calum replied, lying easily.

"That sucks. But life goes on." Michael replied, all three of them going back to their conversation.

"I guess." Calum mumbled. He could help but feel guilty, if only for a second.

That night, Calum stayed up until after midnight so that all the lads were sure to be asleep. He creeped down to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka and a glass. He may have been killing himself but he wasn't a barbarian and he wasn't going to drink straight from the bottle. He then went up to the bathroom, pulling out the box. He placed his phone on the bench, open to his note. He opened the box, pulling out the pills, setting them on the bench, and a blade. Calum lifted up the sleeve on his left arm.

He looked over the scars on his arm, new and old. The memories associated with these, all the thoughts. They were the reason he was doing this. Calum slashed his wrist, one for each of the reasons.

He was stupid *slash*

He couldn't sing *slash*

He wasn't funny *slash*

He couldn't play bass *slash*

He couldn't even play guitar *slash*

His laugh was ear-splitting *slash*

His song writing was terrible *slash*

He was a messy eater *slash*

He was fat *slash*

He was ugly *slash*

He only had fans because of his bandmates *slash*

His bandmates smiles were fake *slash*

He ruined everything *slash*

He deserved to die *slash*

Suddenly, there were arms around him. There was someone pulling the blade from his hand and pulling him away from the bench, despite his struggles. Calum cried, he couldn't see who it was through his tears, but he could feel them wiping over his cuts and bandaging them up. He could feel the two sets of hands holding him down. He knew, when he felt all three sets of hands, that his bandmates had found him.

Luke had heard something in the kitchen and he had opened his door to go see if everything was alright but then he had seen Calum entering the bathroom with vodka. Instantly he knew that Calum was not alright. He knew he couldn't just barge in there and risk getting both himself and the bassist hurt, so he had gone and woken Michael and Ashton up. They had both been mad at first, but once Luke had told them the situation, they were happy to help him.

They had walked as quietly as possible towards the bathroom. Luke had been the one to open the door and see Calum first. He looked absolutely distraught. He had his sleeve up, the many scars on his arms on show, old as well as new. Luke quietly walked up behind Calum, tears in his eyes as he pulled the blade out of of his hand and pulled him away from the counter with the help of Ashton, who was also on the verge of tears.

Michael had started packing away the things on the bench before Ashton had asked for his help. He joined them as Luke wiped and bandaged Calum's bloody arm. Calum put up a fight as they lifted him out of the bathroom and took him back to Luke's room, he would be sleeping there tonight. They put him on the bed and stayed with him until he went to sleep. They all then went to the bathroom, cleaning up everything and putting it away where Calum wouldn't find it so they could take it to a dump the next day.

Luke had grabbed Calum's phone, seeing that he had written a note on there. He didn't read it until all three of them had finished packing up and were sat in the lounge, where Luke had dragged them so that they could read it.

"Right, so, we gonna do this or what?" Michael asked when Luke hesitated to pull the phone out of his pocket.

"Er, yeah." Luke replied, fumbling around for the phone.

"Do you want me to read it?" Ashton asked.

"Yeah, thanks." Luke mumbled in gratitude, hanging the phone to Ashton. Ashton grabbed it and entered Calum's password, which he had memorised a long time ago. The note appeared upon opening the phone and Ashton began to read.

Dear Luke, Ashton, Michael, Mum, Dad, Mali-Koa, whoever is reading this,

First things first, I love you. I love all of you. Without you, I wouldn't have even made it to this point in time. I wouldn't have experienced half of the stuff I have. I wouldn't have made the music I made, even if it was terrible. You guys are, were, my life. You made it livable. You made life, life. I just lost hope.

I know my life wasn't the worst. I mean, I had all the money in the world, so many fans and millions of people knew my name. I basically lived the dream. But that doesn't mean that I was happy. Money can't buy you happiness.

I lived a good life. I met so many people. Gave so much to so many. Heck, I saved people's lives. And they saved mine so many times. But this time they didn't.

I am most likely gone by the time you are reading this. In a better place. Where I want to be. I hope I went to heaven, but even in hell I'd be happy. My life was impossible, too fast. There was no time to myself. No time to reflect.

I needed that time. Time to myself. When I didn't get it, I just lost it. I felt worse than any person ever should. I felt worse than any of you ever deserve to feel.

My arm wasn't anything to do with how I felt. But how people acted on it were.

This isn't making any sense. Is it?

All I want you to know was that his was not your fault. It was the fault of the assholes on the internet that don't know who they are hurting.

I love you, all of you.

Sincerely,

Calum Thomas Hood

"Guys, We need to go check on Calum." Ashton added alarmingly once he had finished.

"What? Why?" Michael asked, bolting up.

"P.S. I had a Plan B." Ashton read. Immediately, all three of them were on their feet and running towards Luke's bedroom. Once there, they could see that Calum was not in Luke's bed. 

BANG!

A gunshot was heard from the other end of the hall, in Calum's room. The lads stood in the doorway of Luke's room in shock for a solid second before rushing down to the room. Ashton kicked the door open, which had surprisingly not been closed properly. As it hit against the wall, Ashton turned away from the door in tears. Looking over his shoulder, Michael could see why. 

Calum was lying on his bed, pistol in his hand, blood splattered all over the wall and bed behind him. It was clear that Calum was well and truly dead, there was no way they were going to save him. Not even calling an ambulance would help now.

The lads were all in tears. Ashton had slid down the wall next to Calum's doorway. Michael pulled his eyes away from Calum's body and slid down on the opposite side of the doorway to Ashton. Luke, however, entered the room, moving towards Calum's body. More specifically towards the gun.

STOP READING IF YOU ARE EVEN SLIGHTLY AFFECTED BY THE EVENTS THAT HAVE ALREADY HAPPENED IN THIS SICKFIC! IT IS ABOUT TO GET A WHOLE HEAP DARKER!

BANG!

Ashton and Michael lept up from their places on at either side of the door, facing into the room. Immediately they could see the body of their lead singer lying next to that of their bassist, their blood mixed together on the wall behind them. The tears fell even more as they began mourning the deaths of their bandmates. Ashton then started moving towards the gun, which was now held loosely in Luke's hand.

"Are you going to do it?" Ashton asked as he pulled the gun from the dead lad's hand, not looking towards Michael as he spoke, his voice low and gruff.

"Do what?" Michael asked, despite knowing exactly what Ashton meant.

"Join them." Ashton replied.

"I.. I don't know if I can." Michael choked.

"Do you want me to do it?" Ashton asked, looking up at his shaking bandmate with teary eyes and a loaded gun in his right hand.

"Please." Michael replied, closing his eyes.

"I can't do it like this." Ashton muttered, lowering the gun. Michael opened his eyes. "Move in front of the bed, on your knees."

Michael did as Ashton asked. He closed his eyes again.

"Do it."

BANG!

Ashton pulled the trigger. He looked at his bandmate as he slumped and then fell face first into the ground, his blood now mixed with his other two bandmates. Ashton decided that it was finally his turn, but he had to do one more thing.

@5SOS: We're sorry.

BANG!

That was the year that four lads killed 23.4 thousand teenage girls and boys.


End file.
